


Salt Water Taffy

by YukitenTheDark



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Abuse, Adoption, Alcohol, Babies, Baby, Break of Trust, Comfort, Exes, F/M, Fatherhood, Friendship, Hospitals, Implied Drug Use, Murder, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Pregnancy, Romance, Sexual Situations, Verbal Abuse, Werewolf, Werewolves, happiness, implied rape, implied sex, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukitenTheDark/pseuds/YukitenTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maryann Hollander is an English girl who moved to Beacon Hills due to unfortunate circumstances, and, under even worse ones, fell pregnant with her best friend's brother's baby. But he disappeared when he found she was pregnant and has not been seen since. Over time, she's grown quite close to Stiles Stilinski. This is a collection of their fluffy and lovely moments together. |||| Face Claim for Maryann: Kaya Scodelario from Skins</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just kind of wrote this. Not much else I can say. Though I do have one question: did I do a good job with Stiles?

Maryann Hollander slept in the morning glow of the sun, a blanket having been draped around her like the willows around a lake. Her soft blonde hair was strewn about in a wavy mess across her pillow and dull in the morning light stretching through a crack in the curtains. Freckles splattered her cheeks and her lips were parted, displaying teeth that had taken a handful of years to straighten and a lax pink tongue touching the bottom row. Her breaths came and went slowly, quietly, as if she were in deep sleep, never to awaken again… A round bulge under the blanket rose and fell with her breaths, giving way to a far-along pregnancy and reminders of a nearing due date.

There was something oddly beautiful about this, Stiles Stilinski thought, his brown eyes traveling the shape of her sleeping form from the chair beside her bed. The in-time breathing she had with the tiny baby in her belly mesmerized him, like it was some feat of two human bodies at two different stages of development, an unbreakable bond forming in those breaths. It made him smile, the idea of a powerful connection between two people who love each other immensely and unconditionally exploding into existence over an entire lifetime of hardship and betrayal and loyalty and kindness, a contradiction that comes with it attachments of ideas and concerns and dreams. It made him smile because, no matter what, they would hold onto each other for the rest of their lives as parent and child, mother and son, best friend and even better friend.

It was beautiful. Oddly so, but beautiful nonetheless.

Stiles leaned forward in the chair and, for a moment, he wanted to reach out and rub her swollen belly, he wanted to feel those two hearts beating together and to feel the baby kick and get excited and happy all just because someone besides his mother dared to touch his wild cocoon. His smile widened, but he didn’t touch her. He felt that, in some way, it was more or less a violation of her personal space and, considering the baby was not his, that it would be inappropriate for him to touch her swell. So, he didn’t, but still did he revel in her connection to her unborn baby.

"Stiles," Maryann said, her British accent slight and hardly noticeable now that she’d been living in the States for nearly two years. It surprised him and he almost leapt from his skin, but he saw her sleepy smile and relaxed in his seat. 

"Morning, Mare," he greeted, crossing his arms over his knees and leaning on them. He smiled at her.

She only smiled back. “What are you doing here?"

That he did not know the answer to, because there were many reasons that could point to his being there. He was curious about the baby, but he thought that maybe he was there to see if she was okay, to see if the last contraction didn’t kill her or something. He shook his head inwardly and decided against it. He came to see her and the baby for the sake of seeing her and the baby, that was all. Over the week, Maryann hadn’t been at school because of her awful contractions. The doctor and even the school nurse told her to stay home or to stay at the hospital until after the baby was born, which was only a week away, but still. Stiles was worried about her absence and came to Beacon Hills Hospital to make sure she was okay.

He briefly looked around the room. It was plain and had less charm than a rotten shoe, the walls faded white and the floor tiles a mismatching of dark blue and off-white. The curtain was light blue and on the other end of the bed was a TV suspended from the wall. Medical machinery hung from the walls and stood on special poles, an IV drip tacked onto a metal post and a plate of cotton balls and the like. Other than that and the chair Stiles sat in, there was nothing much to the hospital room. Just a boring old room. Then he remembered Maryann had spoken to him.

"Ah, I’m here because I wanted to make sure you were okay," he explained, honest and nervous. He looked at her and she returned his gaze, her blue-gray eyes calculating him.

"Well, it’s always nice to see you," Maryann said, her smile pulling at her lips.

"R-really?" Stiles swallowed and cracked a nervous grin. What in the world was she saying?

"Of course! You are my friend and all, and you’re goofy and you somehow always know what to say," she explained to him, and not an once of it made any sense.

It didn’t sound like him at all. Maybe his sarcasm and goofyness did it for her, but it surely did not for anyone else. Still, he let himself chuckle. “Well, that doesn’t sound right."

"Well, I like you, so maybe it’s different. Maybe it helps."

She was so… forward and unafraid. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose at this point in her relationship with him, but her complete and utter show of confidence when it came to these things was insane. Bottom line, he couldn’t believe it. 

"Uh, do you mean that you like me as a friend or as something else…?" He couldn’t keep himself from asking the question, let alone keep himself from slipping off of his chair. In a flailing mess, he hit the cold floor with small thud and blinked multiple times, scrambling to get back into his chair. He pouted and frowned at himself, crossing his arms over his chest like a small child. He couldn’t believe he embarrassed himself.

She giggled at him. “I like you in both ways." Her smile widened.  
"W-what?"

It took her a moment to respond, her eyes drifting away and then snapping back. “Why do I need to repeat myself?"

"I just… It’s just… I dunno. Are you messing with me?" He wouldn’t be surprised if she was. She did it more often than not and she wasn’t nice about it.

"No, Stiles." Frustration leaked into her voice. “I genuinely like you. Don’t you get that? I LIKE YOU."

He blinked and a stupid grin slipped across his face.


	2. Prom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no chronological order of chapters and almost every single one is alternate. They're like short stories with different times and settings and feelings and blahblahblah.

Stiles held his head high as he stumbled out of his Jeep, his tie snagging on a piece of metal sticking out of the door. Of course, he hadn't expected to be so clumsy right off the bat when arrived at Beacon Hills High School in the parking lot, but beggars can't be choosers. Especially not when their pregnant date was standing with her feet practically glued to the first step of the stairs leading inside with the most uncomfortable, loneliest expression known to the entirety of the human race. Oh, and especially not when she was wearing a stunning black, '20s style dress that hugged her petite form without accentuating all the spots that made her insecure. 

He was shocked at how attentive he was, but straightened himself, his eyes fixed on Maryann, and loosened his tie from the metal it was caught on. Once free, he slammed the Jeep door and headed towards the stairs where his date was waiting.

He felt like such a dweeb wearing a snazzy suit, and even more so with Maryann dressed as she was. She looked like a dark, pregnant angel, her hair pulled into a smooth bun with a black band around her head. The kind of angel from another time, poised to steal your heart and force you to raise her kids. Stiles chuckled at that last bit, his steps growing more and more careful as he neared her. He wasn't at all upset by that fact, willfully aiding her in raising her unborn child, and was rather fond of the idea. And he loved her, anyway, so it wasn't really an issue to begin with.

Well, at first, it was, considering that the baby wasn't his. After all, who doesn't have a problem with raising another man's kid? In fact, he hated the idea. He wanted no part of it, no ifs, ands, or buts. And, no matter how hard he pushed against it, Maryann would always rebuttal with a, 'But the father wants nothing to do with us. How can I raise it on my own? You're my best friend, Stiles, and you're just going to let me do this alone? You said yourself that you'd never--' and then she'd cut herself off, the tears in her eyes always betraying her frustration, and leave him standing in the hallway at school. It wasn't fair on either side, but someone had to step up. She was right about that.

No matter how massively uncomfortable he was with the situation, his arguments had become weaker and weaker, and he forced himself to help her when she needed him most. In the space of two weeks, he'd become the adoptive father of the baby. The whole thing muddled his brain and he constantly had to shake his head to clear it when it came up.

But his eyes came to Maryann's and that cleared his inner conversations right up. The tiny glint of happiness in her eyes when she saw him gave him butterflies, his pace picking up immediately, and he nearly teetered into the table some school staff were attending. She was just so pretty he couldn't help it. 

"Mare!" he said warmly, his voice loud and slightly shaky. He was a little nervous, seeing as how his date was all done-up and grinning at him like a wild cat about to pounce. His heartbeat rose. 

"You made it, Stiles! Albeit, a tad late," she greeted, her gloved hand tightly wrapped around the railing of the stairs. She didn't seem all that surprised that he was late, as he himself hadn't realized that he was, and stepped down from her stair and closed the short distance between them (it was only a yard). "But you made it."

"It takes time to look this good, I tell you." He smiled and winked at her, his heart running laps in his chest and his belly aflutter. 

Maryann giggled at him and rubbed her belly. She was only three-and-a-half months along now, so her bulge wasn't too noticeable under the fabric of her dress. Not that it was a bad thing. Stiles groaned inwardly. He was going to end up saying something awful, he just knew it.

"Do you wanna head inside?" she'd asked him, looking up at him with her misty eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Let's go. Lady's first," he stammered, gesturing for her to lead the way.

\------

The music was loud but went to the tune of 'slow and romantic'. Everyone was dancing with their arms around one another, hips swaying and feet barely lifting off the ground, their faces only inches apart. Even Allison and Scott, whom Stiles spotted moments after he and Maryann entered the gym, were dancing together intimately. Too much closeness that he was missing out on. 

Maryann was sitting down with a plastic cup of water in her hand, her eyes skimming the crowd. He knew she didn't like to dance as much, and that the only reason she even came was so she could have the option, but it left him feeling rather lonely as he sat across from her. He wanted to dance to the delicate music, place his hands on her hips and hold her close, maybe even kiss her while he was at it. That's what people did at dances, he thought. Profess their love and make out in a profane manner and get away with it. Right? God knew he wanted to.

So he gave it a shot. "Maryann."

Her eyes snapped away from the crowd of dancing students and narrowed in on him, an eyebrow arched. Quizzical. Man, this girl was expressive. "C-can we, uh, dance?"

"I don't like to dance," she said flatly, giving him an 'I'm almost disgusted' look. He knew that already, but they both needed to move around. It's good for her and the baby, he decided, and for him, too. 

"Well, I do. Get up, Princess Wallflower. You don't even have to move that much. It's a freaking slow song," he grumbled, shooting up from his seat and towering over Maryann to add to the affect of his demand. But she didn't take and instead glared at him like he was a doofus, her head shaking from side to side. If he didn't love her, he probably would've attempted to throttle her by now. Well, not really, he couldn't do that, but oh boy. 

"I don't like it," she said, emphasizing her accent with each syllable. 

He frowned and grabbed her hand anyway, unable to understand her rejection of dancing. It wasn't all that bad. Yes, it was terribly awkward and everyone fumbled faster than they could be smooth. Yes, it was a little draining. Yes, it was really weird sometimes. But other than that, it had no other bad qualities and it could be really fun. And there were so many different kinds of dances so you didn't have to stick to just one. You could experiment and explore to see what was right for you. It was like picking houses. But Maryann just didn't like it, and there didn't appear to be any real reasons as to why.

She was going to dance, he decided.

"You can't sit there and drink water. This is prom!" He pulled her from her seat and put his hands on either side of her face, surprised at how short she really was in comparison to him, and held her there. "You're going to dance with me."

She shook her head and tried to sit back down, resisting his hands and fighting his grip, but he moved his hands all around: his left on her hip and his right latched onto her free hand. He was gentle at the very least, slowly urging her back with him to the crowded dance floor, and he gave her a small reassuring smile. He just wanted to dance with her. 

"Fine," she muttered, her eyes dropping from his own to his collar. She pouted.

Victory exploded into his face and he helped her get into the sway of it all, gently pulling her closer to him. Just slowly step, step in a misshapen circle. She was so close to him, it was almost unbearable, but still he kept it going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter was awful. How about you?


	3. The Girl Who Got Knocked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before last chapter, Prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of really hate this chapter. I couldn't write anymore on it, no matter how hard I tried.

Maryann stared with tired eyes at her chemistry teacher and yawned, her body aching from the night before. It had been a long one seeing as how it was a full moon and someone decided to let his anger get the best of him. He was such a peach when he turned, that Jase, and never did he let anything stabilize him, like he wanted to go wolf and rip everyone he loved - if he’s even capable of that - to tiny bits and pieces. He almost tore her up the night before, howling and growling, but instead left her with a bruised right thigh. It was so dark a purple that it seemed more black than anything and it was swollen on top of it, hurting when she moved even the slightest bit.

She looked down at her covered thigh, wondering why Jase was such a violent bastard and what she did to deserve it…

_**He** was particularly irritated when he walked in the door that night, practically fuming, his eyes glowing a faint red. He dropped the plastic bags he had carried in and slammed the door behind him, his movements quick and fueled by whatever had been bothering him, something Maryann hardly wondered about these days. She watched him trudge into the living room where she was reading and finally collapse into the love seat opposite of her, a long, agitated breath leaving him. He glared at the ceiling, eyes glowing._

_She wondered if it would be a good idea to tell him, seeing as how he was so easily ticked off. Her belly had upset the last few days and she’d been keeping it from him, putting all her effort into making sure he didn’t know. She knew he’d abandon her, leave her alone to carry his potentially violent spawn, and she knew exactly what the little thing would become: A monster, just like him. Twisted by the hate and lack of responsibility its stupid and abusive father had left for it. She frowned deeply, knowing all too well that the baby would grow up both without a father and swimming in its own resentment, forced to live with the fact its own father abandoned it and gave it a curse that would leave people hunting it and hating it. It made her blood boil._

_"Aren’t you going to ask what’s wrong?" Jase so kindly ground out, his eyebrows furrowing with further malcontent._

_Personally, she couldn’t give a **flying fuck** about how his day has gone, what his problems were, how he was feeling, because she knew exactly what he was going to do and say no matter what came to be of the entire day. It did not matter. He would look at her in scorn, scoff at her, blame her, reprimand her for things she had no part of, and in the end, he’d feel entitled. He’d hurt her for the sake of his pathetic ego, his pride, his curse. Her body became the home of a child afflicted by the same curse and he’d blame it all on her. She shot him a wicked glare._

_"Frankly, Jase, I don’t really care," she hissed, leaning back into the increasingly uncomfortable couch. She had to tell him, regardless of the outcome. “As **you** don’t seem too concerned about the numerous trips I’ve taken to the bathroom in the last week or so.”_

_And, **boy** , did he start to fume._

_His face grew redder and redder and he set his jaw, digging his all-too sharp claws into the arm of the love seat._

_Maryann blinked and almost let herself smirk, quickly covering the action with a frown, waiting for him to do what he so relished to do every night. He would always try to intimidate her with the claws and his stupid glowy eyes, because somehow being the alpha of his dwindling family made him that much more powerful. When that didn’t work, as it never truly did, he would throw things, howl and growl, just be destructive in general. She didn’t care. He was a fool, using his twisted idea of power as a tool for scaring the one girl that was hardly scared of anything. Ah, and when the destructive behavior didn’t make her flinch even the slightest bit, that’s when he’d lay into her. He’d throw her around like a rag doll, wrap his hands around her throat, rake his claws across her thighs or back or stomach (didn’t matter to him), and even break bones. He liked that, it seemed, breaking bones._

_She didn’t stay with him for the sake of a partner. She stayed with him for the simple fact that he was the only person she had left. She’d grown to hate him._

**_"I’m pregnant, you impotent fool."_ **

Maryann groaned softly, rubbing her thigh with slow, soothing strokes. He really did a number on her this time around. Calling him an impotent fool wasn’t the best idea she could’ve ever had, as he’d almost tore her thigh apart. The reason he didn’t, she supposed, was that she was pregnant. With his child. His legacy. She scoffed inwardly.

"Ah, Ms. Hollander, the girl who got knocked up," her chemistry teacher spat, cold and rude as usual. It stung, but that was all. "What could possibly be so interesting as to distract your tiny mind from my lesson?"

The man seriously believed that being awful to his students would have them respect him?

She took in a sharp breath, her gay-blue eyes sliding from the blackboard to meet his own brown ones. Never in her life had she allowed anyone to talk down to her, not even Jase. ”With all do respect, you’re not worth listening to, and attacking me in such a way proves how small-minded **you** are.”

"With all do respect, detention until four." He eyed her with his typical stoic malcontent, his voice a fraction of an octave higher. Frustration wasn’t attractive on him.

“ **With all do respect** , fuck you,” she hissed. She didn’t have time for his crap.

"I could send you to the principal, give you suspension or get you expelled, detention for the rest of your high school career."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh? And just how effective do you think that will be when it comes to me, a pregnant girl?" A smirk appeared on her lips. "The risks you could be posing to my baby… Stress of expulsion, too-long days at school where I don’t need your dwindling authority when it comes time to get the baby out, or just when I really have to pee."

He looked at her a moment, his brows slowly tilting downward. He wasn’t happy about losing an argument with a student and, oh-ho, _did he lose_. Not brutally, not by very much, but he did and that is what irked him, got under his slimy skin.

There wasn’t a single sound uttered by any of the other students.


End file.
